Maroon Mania
by Lady Drachir
Summary: A tale for vampire lovers.
1. Chapter 1

A damp stairwell... Dark, cold light streams from an imploring crescent moon shining down, mysterious, oblivious to the burning stars around it. A young woman lies in a small canopy bed of deep blue cotton sheets that rub smoothly over her soft feminine figure. A fluttering white lace curtain flies about in a soft breeze, whispering through a wide-open window. Her pale skin pales farther in the moon's envious light. Pillows, strewn and scattered over the floor, seem as obstacles to a clean room's character. In a sudden motion, the wind whips through the room and clunks against a hard wooden door at the indistinguishable base of the stairwell. Through the blue lace draping down over the bed the last remaining pillow lying unwanted at the foot of the bed flies to the far wall from the woman's hands. A bloodthirsty scream emanates from the stairwell echoes the thud of the pillow's bounce from wall to floor. The woman as in a trance sits up in her bed, back straight, hands folded into her long, silky, black nightgown, peering with wide stoic eyes towards the stairwell. Two red pinpricks of light from the wooden door burn into her soul like fire as the nightly routine is to take place again. The woman cannot remove her stare from the points of light even if she willed it. She looks forward to her visitor.1 Burning red opals glide up to the waiting victim. Soft folds of black velvet envelop the beholder of the eyes, a male, who looks no more than twenty with black hair slicked back fancily, a tall lanky, masculine frame... and those burning eyes. His pale hands reach out in a tender grasp to the woman wantonly. She lifts her head, parts the lace curtains rimming her bed, permitting him entrance. He takes her in his arms, holding her tightly, feeling the side of her neck with his gentle, caressing hand. Still searching, he kisses her fervently, then feeling two bumps on her neck, looks into her eyes. She nods her head with a smile, tipping it. A crafty smile reveals two large fangs protruding from his mouth. Sinking into her flesh he drinks of her sweet blood moderately. Not entirely satisfied he withdraws; his fangs shorten into his jaw and the two fall into the darkness of night.

--

As the first rays of sunlight tip over the hills, a fierce wind proclaims the exit of the man with red eyes. The young woman awakens, looks about her, remembering this night as those preceding it; a dream. A flower blooms in the window, its scent flowing through the room spreading a sense of passion, of intimacy. The woman, Jessabelle, curls up, stretching in a tight ball, then pushes the sheets away from her body. Breathing deeply, she pulls back the lace curtains from the bed, steps lightly with soft, padding feet along the cool hardwood floor. The man with the eyes of fire from her dream, she has given a special name. She refers to him as Raphael. Her mind, unbending in its way, believes him only a dream. She summons him in life unknowingly, every night and bids him drink of her fresh, warm blood, which flows freely through her to him, sustaining his life. Slowly, though the woman does not realize it, she begins to detest and loathe the day and the sunlight. She finds pleasure and delight in the night and the cold moon shining down to smile upon her maliciously. She daydreams of her Raphael and his kiss and caress.

Jessabelle walks across the length of her room, picks out a tight-fitting black dress for her workday, and begins to change in front of her mirror. She unbuttons the top of her nightgown and slips it off past her feet looking at the floor. She glances up to comb out her hair and pull it into a tight bun but suddenly she ceases to move, it seems as though time has stopped its rapid pace. On her neck, she notices, two pinpricks of white surrounded by puffed up pink skin. Shyly she reaches up, hand shaking, with her middle and index fingers to touch the two bumps on her neck. She jerks her hand away. Not wanting to believe her dreams true. How could they be? Vampires were only am imaginary children's tale told for adults. Taking this all in with one heartbeat guiding every thought, she moans and falls to the floor in a wretched heap.


	2. Chapter 2

Opening her eyes, rubbing her aching head where she bounced it off the floor when she fell, she looks about the room, eyes darting in a harvest moon's light. A knock comes from the door at the base of the stairwell where Raphael stood just the previous night. Convulsing with fear, she lifts her body slowly off the floor. Trembling, she walks to the door, hunched, creeping, cat-like in appearance. She opens the door, peeking through. Her love, her fiancé smiles back for only a moment, then his handsome facial features drop into a sullen grimace as he stares into her pallid face with fear.

"Oh, honey what happened?" he swings the door open against her will, pushing the door against her holding force, slamming it into the doorstop when she relents her hold. He runs towards her but she retreats up the stairs into the bedroom. He follows uncaring what she wants. Grabbing onto her shoulders, his bony fingers dig deeply into her skin so that she struggles in pain, writhing out of his harsh control. He fires a multitude of questions at her, "What happened, why haven't you called, why weren't you at work today?" And his snaking tongue never stopped for an answer.

His back is to the window, she can see out into the blessed night. A thin slit separates the window from the sill. A smooth, gray, foggy mist slides underneath the window frame, slipping along the sill, falling at the drop from sill to floor. She stares with an unconscious, unaware look draping her face. Her fiancé shakes her body rocking her back and forth so hard that her teeth gnash together. The mist stands up as if erecting itself on hind legs. Suddenly, as a solid form, it rushes upon the man who so harshly treats the woman without a care in the world. The man's throat is ripped open streaking blood across the room. He falls to the floor shrieking in a high-pitched womanous tone. A man with red eyes feeds on his succulent life-supporting blood. Jessabelle watches, expressionless, unfazed by the rancid smell of fresh spilt blood. Raphael finishes his feast, wipes away the blood from his lips. Then walks to her and holds her in his arms, brushing her hair with his slender caressing fingers.


	3. Chapter 3

The deepest dark always comes before the dawn. A simple rule of thumb. The deepest dark is now present, while Raphael holds Jessabelle.

"It is time," he says quietly whispering with a warm breath into her ear, brushing back her hair with his smooth pale hand.

"Time for what?" she replies gazing up into his eyes.

"It is time, for you to come with me, unless you would rather wait here for the police to come. Do you love me?" he speaks slowly, articulating every word precisely, pausing between each word for maximum effect.

She continues to stare into his face, taking time to look and think over every facet of his request. She lowers her eyes. "Yes I love you," she says so quietly that Raphael must strain his ears to hear. "I don't want you to leave me," she talks louder and faster. "Don't leave me alone, I want to go with you." She wraps her arms around him and kisses him.

"Yes," he stands. "All you must do is follow me. You now have the same form as I have." A loud report sounds on the wooden door at the base of the stairwell. Raphael grabs a hold of Jessabelle's hand and stands by the window. As if in instinct she closes her eyes and can feel her body stretch and flow.

Blue uniformed policemen burst through the door in time to see a thin gray mist slipping out the window. But the sight of the male body, lying face up, eyes opened and terror filled in death, his throat torn open viciously, but no blood as if someone had sucked him dry, catches their attention more.

Jessabelle feels her body tighten and sees Raphael's mist shape into a delicate black bat with short fangs and sharp radar. He leads her a few miles beyond the city limits. A rugged mountain, inaccessible by someone walking by foot lies ahead of them, a dark pinnacle capped with a rustic castle-like mansion. As the two bats fly closer, a group of smaller bats fly by with a sharp whisk of wings. Raphael and Jessabelle land, him a little ways ahead, nearer to the mansion, his back to her, they transform and remain where they stand for a moment.

"They are normal bats," he says deeply, knowing her unspoken question. "You are the only one like me here." He turns towards her, looks at her slowly and deeply then, taking her hand in his, leads her into the castle as the last few stars disappear and the sickeningly bright sun comes to take the envious moon's celestial spot.

The inside of the castle is darker than a moonless night. Very few candles are lit. Eccentric artwork lines the many halls and stairwells from end to end. Raphael brings his eternal guest into the library, sits down in a soft chair and brings his hand down to Jessabelle's waist as she straddles his lap lightly, facing him. Minutes pass before a word is spoken and the silence is all but that of a sealed tomb, awaiting a robber in the night.

"Your transformation is not quite complete, my dear." Raphael's voice speaks quietly, quivering with desire and passion. "There is one thing you must yet do."

"I'll do anything just as long as I can be with you," Jessabelle cries placing one hand on Raphael's chest and one on his neck.

"You must learn to feed. Once you make your first kill, then, as you taste the blood, your transformation will be total. Do you want me to escort you tomorrow night? Or would you like to wait a while? I will wait for you till forever ends." Raphael's smooth caress slides down the zipper of Jessabelle's black dress.

"I will go tomorrow night. I do not want to make you wait that long even if we have eternity. You may come, your presence is soothing." Her full auburn hair falls loosely around her face.

Raphael runs his smooth hand across her cool, soft skin, snaking his fingers over her spine. He picks his bride, Jessabelle, up gently in his arms, the line between his lips and hers becomes indiscernible. Raphael's strong hold carries the woman up a short case of winding metal stairs that are stationed in the center of the library, and lead to a dark, windowless room.2 He closes the door behind them, still as if the two are of one person, and parts the dark, black, soft, velvet curtains draping an ancient bed. He lays her down, they again become two separate people, and he closes the curtains framing the bed as he snuffs out one remaining unflickering candle. The folds of darkness enclose upon the lover's night as the silent shadows watch intently, seeing their new accompaniment.


	4. Chapter 4

Darkness... Total, utter darkness. That is the way they were meant to be. Lying under thick cover of black bear pelts, held fast as they are in their ageless forms. Two opals fly open; a bat shrieks its warning. A lightly luminescent, pinkish-red glows from the eyes. They shift sideways, gazing with passion towards the being lying beside her. She props herself up on her elbow, kissing the man, biting, but not breaking the skin. He moans pleasurably and rolls over on top of her, kissing her neck, running his hands over her body.

"Are you ready?" he asks lifting his face to her, a manly smile donning his lips.

"Born runnin'" she replies with a lop-sided grin. She rolls out of bed picks up a dress from the nearby chair. She dresses in a long old fashioned black dress decorated with same colored lace, but lets her hair fly madly about her elegantly shaped face.

"Mmm," Raphael agrees also flopping out of bed and dressing in his own dark clothing full of folds and dark recesses between the cloth and cloak. Finding flying quicker, Jessabelle transforms into her winged beast with a laughing Raphael following close behind.

As the moon's light shimmers off the leathery wings, the two divulge into the town's nightlife, searching. An open window bids them entrance. Raphael lands silently on the window. Jessabelle changes back to her original form, standing in the middle of a room, adorned only by an antique dresser, a large bed, and a walking rug from door to bed. A soft breath whispers in the silence, the coverings on the bed slowly quiver in an up-down pattern. Quietly, yet standing upright, back rigidly straight, the woman in black walks towards the bed. She leans down smoothing the burgundy covers away from a young male face, tipping her crimson red lips down to meet his. His manly voice whispers, his eyes still closed, and a moan escapes his lips. A sickening snap of the puncture echoes in the room, his body jerks, his hips jumping into the air, his knees crooked joints writhing in pain as his feet twist and jump away from the persecutor. His body convulses. A happy, blood-lusting, purring growl emits from the woman's throat as she holds down her victim by his shoulders, unwilling to let him escape her. The rancid scent of a fresh kill fills the room; the body ceases to writhe and falls limp onto the bed in an awkward position. She turns her face and body back to the now reformed Raphael; her beaming red eyes half closed in a pleasured grimace. A thin trail of thick, red liquid travels down from the corner of her mouth, down her neck.

"You have done well, my sweet!" Raphael exclaims taking her up in his arms.

"I must sleep," is her only reply before the two fly back to the castle to rest.


	5. Chapter 5

Part Two - Three Years Later

A small blond-haired child plays vigorously on deep green grass growing abundantly in his backyard. As he smashes small figurines together, their arms, heads, and legs fly away in opposite directions. The setting sun's last flickering pink beams duck beneath the dark blue of night as they glance once more upon the six-year old boy dresses in a gray tee-shirt and khaki shorts before settling to bed for the night. A small sliver of a moon peaks out as a street light gleams to life in the coming darkness.

"Lucas, honey, come inside. It's getting dark," a warm woman's voice comes from a nearby farmhouse lying on the outskirts of town.

"Jus a minute," he lifts his head to call back revealing two, pinprick bumps on his neck, barely hearing what she had said. More figures crash into each other sending their extremities and limbs flying. A soft, pale-footed step catches the boy's attention. With a gasp, he turns quickly around momentarily forgetting his toys. "Oh, hello again," he says, familiar to his visitor. The silent, bare feet step lightly on the smooth grass.

"Are you ready my dear?" she asks, her burning red eyes looking into his.

"Yes," he says, picking up his disfigured toys and walking towards her. He loops the bottom of his tee-shirt up to hold his toys like a pouch so he may have one hand free. "Where are we going mommy?" His childish, shrill voice asks with glee as he adds a skip into his happy step.

"Do you remember what I've taught you about what you must do to become like me and daddy?" she replies using extra emotion required of these younger beings.

"Yes," he responds again inserting his free hand into hers while still maintaining his toys.

"Well, tomorrow night, you need to do just that, but for tonight, you are going to come home with daddy and me."

"But what about my other mommy and daddy?" he asks a quiver in his voice.

"You don't have another mom or dad. We are your parents now," she says articulately but without being harsh. "Here, take off your shirt." Lucas does as he is told obediently, placing the toys in his shirt. Jessabelle ties his shirt securely around the toys. "Now imagine yourself being a bat," she says as a group lands, picks up the packaged toys and flies off in direction of the castle.

"Ok," Lucas says closing his eyes tightly. A pair of wings flap from his sides and he can no longer see Jessabelle but a round, black bat hovers where she once stood. She bids him to follow her and he does. So close in fact does he follow that he bumps into her back feet continuously. As the castle comes into view, small squeaks emit from the smaller bat's throat, his radar catching sight of the castle. An excited, young child claps his hands and skips towards the castle as he transforms back. A man with intensified red eyes steps out from the shadows with open arms welcoming his guest.

"Hello my son," he speaks deeply with a father's prideful grin. "Welcome home."

"Oh, gee! This is great!" the boy exclaims. Lucas walks into the castle and is escorted to his bedroom, down the hall from the library. He has a small, single bed with dark red sheets and a stone floor covered partially by a knitted rug. His toys lay in the middle of the bed still wrapped in his tee-shirt.

"Goodnight sweet heart," Jessabelle says kissing him on the forehead.

"Tomorrow night, I get to be just like daddy!" the boy pounces on his bed, rapidly unwrapping his toys.

The two adults close the bedroom door and silently slink off to their own quarters.


	6. Chapter 6

A sick yellow harvest moon rises above the forest treetops. Jessabelle lies in Raphael's arms and the sunset rays slip behind the horizon. Silent slippered feet scuff up the stairs to the bedroom and slowly turn the well-oiled door handle. A small form with a hard pounce jumps up on the bed sitting on his knees on top of the covers, bouncing gleefully, his eyes shimmering with a light, pink glow.

"Come on, get up, the moon is out, it's time to go." Lucas hops off the bed.

"Alright, you just give your mother and I a minute to get ready." Raphael's smooth tone carries caringly into the boy's ear. He skips out of the room, closing the door gently behind him, running down the halls to the outer courtyard. The parents slip out of bed rubbing sleep from their eyes and dress in their hunting attire; Raphael in his black leather pants and long sleeved shirt with a cloth cloak and Jessabelle in her black dress with like lace. Raphael steps up behind Jessabelle, wraps his arms around her waist inside her dress and with a soft snarl he playfully bites at her neck as she giggles girlishly. He ties up her dress with a satisfied smirk playing on his features. Opening the door with gleeful unanimous screeches, the two look at their partner and transform, leaving the room with a gust, closing the door behind them.

Arriving in the courtyard, the boy sees his parents flying swiftly towards him, turns to the direction of the town, and begins to fly towards it. The two accompanying bats soon catch up to the smaller. One on either side of him, they fly into the city lights.


	7. Chapter 7

A man, in his mid-thirties with short-cropped, cinnamon-brown hair, gray eyes and a well-built muscular frame lies under thin covers, a fan blowing in his window. A cordless telephone sits beside his bed, on his nightstand, beneath a maroon shaded lamp.

Brrring... the telephone lights up. Brrring... a tan hand groggily searches for the phone.

"Hello?" a scruffy voice asks.

"Yeah, um, this is the police martial. We've has a disappearance. We need you to come down to 319 Mortle Avenue. It's down by the corner store on the back roads," a high-pitched male voice quaucks into the other end of the telephone line.

"Yeah," speaks the scratchy voice as the man rubs the sleep from his eyes. "I'll be down in a few." He places the phone back down on the nightstand and clicks it to off mode. Throwing back the sheets, he jumps out of bed, springing like a coiled snake. Dressing in a white dress shirt, buttoning down leaving the top two buttons undone, he checks his watch, leaves his cuffs unbuttoned and rolls them back. Popping toast into a double toaster on the kitchen counter, he flips on the light, chases the dark shadows out of the room. Butter, cinnamon, sugar all sprinkled and spread onto the toast. Munching, crunching, he walks out the door grabbing his wallet and keys off of the shelf by the door.

Roaring to life as he inserts the keys into the ignition, his beautiful blue convertible corvette leaves the driveway with a skid of tires. Orange streetlights glare as sinister enemies to the morning. A few stops and he arrives to the police station slumpily walking in and grabbing a steaming cup of black coffee.

"The address is on the lieutenant's desk. He said he left pictures of the missing person." A secretary speaks not looking up from the monitor she is at. Her double pigtails bounce as her bubble gum pops and she types furiously.

The man walks to the desk, sees a sticky note on a case folder. The note reads, "For Steve Durmich. Good luck on your case." Smiling, he picks up the folder, walks out the door and gets back in his car.

Opening the folder he looks at the neatly typed, clean, white sheets of paper, all trademarked with the police insignia. The papers describe the disappearance as a boy of 6 years, 4 months with mousy blond hair, red freckles, standing three foot nine inches. There was a picture paper clipped to the inside of the folder. The papers also told of the boy's last whereabouts and where he should be looked for.

Steve lowers the top of his car, inserts his key and is about to twist it into ignition as he hears a few sharp squeaks and rapidly turns his head in the direction they come from. Three small black objects whiz by, each squeaking in turn, diving and wheeling back and forth.

"Hmm, it's a good night for bats to be feeding," he comments as he drives off. He never realized the legitimacy of his comment until the report ended up on the lieutenant's desk the following morning.


	8. Chapter 8

After driving for about an hour out into the country, Steve pulls up to a small, white, well-furnished house with a quiet willow tree in the front yard, a barn with cattle, sheep, and horses in the back and luxurious green grass. An older woman, in her mid-forties with flaming red hair, streaked with silver, sets down her yarn work and comes out to greet the man.

"Hi," she speaks with a southern belle accent.

"Are you here 'bout my boy?"

"Yes ma'am, I am. I would like to look around if you don't mind." He smiles kindly, jutting out his hand in a friendly gesture. "I'm Steven Durmich."

The woman shakes his hand heartily with a strong grip. "I'm Daicy May Dunland. My husband is off at work but he'd be more than happy to meet you." She half turns; ready to go back to her sewing. "It was nice meeting you. I hope you find my boy. This isn't the first time he's gone missing. He's probably playing hide and go seek with his toys and got lost in the woods. You know boys."

"I'll do my best ma'am. G'day." Steve turns and walks out to the barn in back of the house, and sees dozens of action figure heads, arms, and legs.

As Steve admires the child's handiwork, Raphael carries his sleeping son into his bedroom. Setting him on his bed, Raphael and his bride, Jessabelle, tuck the child in snuggle, each kissing his forehead. The proud parents sneak out of the room on tiptoes, desperately trying not to wake the boy. They slip down the hall, and glide into the library close to each other, but not touching. They walk silently up to their bedroom to spend a day in bliss.


	9. Chapter 9

Steve lifts his head as the sun's morning rays begin to warm his neck and back. He had searched the yard but had found nothing unordinary. Looking towards a giant oak in the backyard, he sees a comfortable shade under the tree and walks over to it. Plopping down as the sun shines brighter, he wipes perspiration from his forehead with a blue handkerchief from his back pocket. Rolling over, so as to replace the handkerchief, he spots a few deeply imprinted shoe marks.3 He reaches out his hand to compare. The prints are smaller than his hand, that of a child. The prints are joined just a little ways off by bare feet, feet belonging to a woman. The tracks continue for a few more feet, face each other, then simply vanish. After searching the whole area surrounding the prints, Steve gets into his car wearily to drive back to the police station. The sun shifts behind clouds and throws into shadow the trees lining the hills in front of Mount Trespass. Rumor had it an old man lived in a house on the very top of the peak, but no one could get up there; or so it is told.

After eating supper and stealing a not-so-short nap, Steve arrives at the police station. The moon is out and the stars are twinkling coldly. All the lights are off in the building and the keys are in the lock.

"Odd," Steve comments to himself quietly. Opening the door he cautiously walks to the back office to replace the folder he had used that day and added the new information to. The office door has been flung open, stuck against the doorstop. Soft sounds come from the room; a woman's moan filled with pleasure. Suddenly, a thud as that of a fallen body is heard in the office. Steve stands quiet, unsure how to exit this unexpected spectacle, again, hears a low moan. A shrieking, blood-curdling scream emits from the throat of a woman. Running into the room Steve flips on the light switch. In shock, he stares at the woman dressed in tight black jeans with a thin strip of cloth covering her petite upper body.4 The pallid body of the lieutenant lies stricken on the floor in a crooked, awkward position not unlike a stuffed animal tossed to the floor. Steve stands where he is when the woman charges ferociously at him. He bats her away with his arms, blocking her attack. She bites into his right forearm, digging in with her fingernails and long, sharp fangs. Steve screams and jumps back, opening the doorway. The woman charges past him, heading for the front door. He chases her, watches her as she sprints down the driveway. He jumps into his car and roars it to life. He turns the car lights onto the woman. She turns to him, snarls with a wide mouth, fangs protruding out and eyes dilated and wide. She jumps, transforms into a small black bat and flies towards Mount Trespass. Open-mouthed, Steve stares, stunned into shock.

"I think we're dealing with something much bigger here," he states awed. Steve turns off his car, walks back into the building, and picks up the phone. He dials 9-1-1 to report the situation at the police station, explaining his part in the happenings of the night and describing the woman but not the transformation.


	10. Chapter 10

Soft sunlight rays float in the window to shine upon the young man. Reaching out, to brush the sleep from his eyes, he flicks on the radio beside his bed. Swinging his legs over the side of the bed, he stands and, slumping, walks over to his closet, selecting the necessary clothes needed for that day's adventures. Picking out heavy-duty black, jean pants, he also adds a bulletproof vest under a tight, dark gray tee-shirt. He walks out of the room following his normal morning rituals and eventually leaves the house when the sun has fully risen.

Arriving at the police station in only fifteen minutes, he walks out of the car easily and stiffly strides into his work place. A loud commotion reaches his ears before he can even close the door behind him. Several policemen are holding a small, skinny figure of a wasted man whom is lashing about wildly, with dilated eyes.

"Vampires!" he screams, abandoning all reason and attempting to free himself from the policemen's hard grips. "No! Don't go out there without necessity! Don't face them without protection! You'll never survive!" The man's face, red from exertion, is shiny with sweat. "I can show you what to take!" he screams.

The policemen drag him towards the door, "Come on sir" one man says, "Be good and don't hurt yourself." Steve hesitates a moment longer before walking over to the policemen.

"Leave him, I wish to speak with him," Steve stares at the man as the policemen let him get stiffly and the man falls to the floor like a sack of potatoes, a child throwing a tantrum.

"What do you want?" he asks skeptically eyeing Steve up and down warily.

"I want you to tell me what you were talking about," he replies calmly. "What were you saying about vampires?"

"Well, you've figured out what she is haven't you?" The man states this dully as if everyone in the world had at one point in time met this "she." Steve shakes his head, a confused look on his face. "Well, you must have seen what she's done then... She took the boy." The man grins as realization comes to Steve's face. "Remember? Three years ago, a young woman disappeared? The neighbors were complaining about a horrid screaming so your men hurried there! Do you remember what they found?" the man's crystal blue eyes twinkle protectively at Steve, his excited whispers smooth as soft bells.

"Yes," Steve says swallowing hard. "We found the woman's fiancé."

The man smiles. "And was there anything particularly interesting about the man?" a knowing gaze shows on the man's features.

Steve staring at the floor suddenly, with a blank expression on his face, shifts his gaze back to the man's smiling visage. "The woman!" he cries as full recognition dawns on his face. "But how, why..." Steve is cut off as the man's soft voice cuts in.

"He took her as his bride, he did. And now they've got the boy. So they've got one big happy family. But who knows how much bigger it will get before someone outs the trio?" The man's smile fades from his face as his information is played out. Steve opens his mouth to speak, then closes it again, rethinking his questions.

"How do I find him? And if I do, how do I destroy these things?"

"You can say the word you know," the man scoffs too jovial considering the situation. "They're only vampires, not demons, though they might as well be the next step up. If you come with me to my car in the parking lot I'll give you your supplies and your instructions and where you'll be going precisely." Steve follows the man as he gets up from his dissonant spot on the floor and walks out to an old version of a broken-down station wagon that looks to run on pure will force. Taking out a small key ring servicing three keys, the man selects the middle key and inserts it into the keyhole on the trunk of his car. The trunk pops open with a loud klink. Several unusual boxes lay in the trunk. The man slides one towards him popping the cardboard flaps back. Reaching his hand in, he pulls out a strand of garlic.

"This keeps the vampires away. Put some in your pockets, some around your necks, better yet, eat some," he says casually popping half of a small bulb into his mouth. Steve grimaces with a horrified look and holds the garlic away from himself warily.

Out of the same box the man reveals a small flask. "This is Holy water. Keep it safe. A vampire cannot come into contact with this."

Opening a second box the man pulls out a large sheet and begins unfolding it. A flash shows in the morning sun; a long knife. "To fully kill a vampire you must take out its heart and separate the head from the body." The man hands Steve the knife.

Finally the man opens the third box handing Steve a black backpack for easy storage of the items. Steve hastily shoves the garlic, flask and the knife into the pack.

A map flops open. "Here's where you must go; Mount Trespass. You must get there by air. It is inaccessible by ground."

"Have you ever seen it?" Steve asks cautiously.

"Well... no, but trust me, it's there. Many have tried to get there, none have lived. I tried to find the blue prints to the mansion but they don't seem to exist. The mansion must have been built quite a while before any settlement arrived here."

"Thank you," Steve says warmly to the man before heading over to his corvette.

"Wait," the man suddenly commands. "Don't let them catch you at night either." He throws a flashlight to Steve.

"Thanks" Steve says again with a little wave before popping into his car. Flipping open his cell phone, Steve watches the man drive away in a thick smoke cloud of exhaust. Steve opens his address book and finds a number. A dial tone, then odd sounding beeps are audible as he places the phone to his right ear.

"Yeah, what do you want?" a mundane voice answers.

"Hey Tornado, I need a lift."

"Hey sure Steve, anything I can do for you. When do you need it?"

"Well, now T is you can spare a pilot."

"Uh, hang on a minute." The phone clanks down and girlish laughter erupts in the background. "Shh!" Tornado hisses as he picks up the phone again.

"If you give me ten minutes I'll have you set to go. Drew is here. She can pilot you. That is, if you're up to it babe... yeah, ok. She'll fly for you."

"Uh, thanks T. I'll be over. See ya in a few." Steve clicks off his phone, throwing it onto the passenger seat, then proceeds to cross his eyes, making a puking face and gagging. "Yeah, ten minutes, I'll give you fifteen."


	11. Chapter 11

Steve pulls up to a large metal building and parks in the little shade of the noonday sun. He casually walks around to the back of the building, glancing over at a window of the smaller adjoining building hosting the sign -- "Tornado Flights. Lessons-Rides-Special Trips." Steve knocks politely on the door. Objects can be heard inside tumbling to the floor as a silhouette figure hurries to the door. A tall, bulky man whips the door open.5

"Yeah?" he says fumbling with his belt buckle. "Oh, Steve, yeah come in," the man says his shirtless chest sticky with sweat on this hot day. "Drew's in the bedroom, uh, changing. She's just visiting for the weekend and got some, uh, oil on her shirt." The bedroom door flings open as a young woman with curly red hair that flies untidily around her face bursts out at a run. Her short shorts look exceedingly uncomfortable as Steve takes in her also sweaty body with a tight spaghetti strap shirt.

"Steve!" she yells launching herself into the air and ending with her legs wrapped around Steve's middle. He desperately throws out his arms catching her and feeling her warm skin against his arms and hands. "I take you fly yah?" She says with a light Swedish accent.

"Yes, if you don't mind," Steve replies shifting her weight uncertainly and glancing at Tornado who just chuckles softly.

"Vondervul," she cries kissing Steve on the forehead and jumping down. "Vere I take vu?" she asks standing in front of Tornado as he wraps his arms around her waist rubbing his chin over her hair and ear, roaming down to her neck with his plush lips as if intoxicated.

"Mount Trespass." Steve glances at the floor.

"Mount Tresspass?" Drew asks.

"Yes," Steve looks up. "I've heard rumors of an old mansion there. I am curious as to its existence." Drew stares at Steve, nose wrinkled in curious thought.

"There's no place to land up there. Vu'll have to parachute out. Then call me when you need to go and I'll bring a rope ladder."

"Alrighty then," Steve replies shrugging his shoulders.

Tornado walks steadily across the room, shoulders slumped, hands in pockets, head down. His hazel eyes quickly glance at his friend. "I've known you long enough to know when something's up man. What's up with you? You gonna tell me what's going on?"

Steve just smiles at Tornado. "I'm just doing some research, that's all."

"Alright, have it your way, but if you get stuck up there, don't come crying to me." Tornado clasps his friend's shoulder in a vice-like grip. Steve slaps Tornado on the back in a friendly manner.

"I'll be fine," he replies.

"You're not off the hook yet. We WILL talk later," Tornado laughs genially. "Right then, shall vee?" Drew asks heading towards the door.

"Yeah, I'll get ready," Steve replies walking out to the car. He gathers all his supplies in his backpack.


	12. Chapter 12

Steve walks into the hanger as Drew checks over the helicopter. Two thick red straps are around his shoulders connecting the parachute backpack. He attaches his black backpack to his belt.

"Alright let's go," Tornado slaps Steve on the back.

"Ok." The two men climb up into the flying contraption. Steve scratches passively at the bite on his arm.

"Hey, are you ok?" Tornado asks.

"Huh?" Oh, yeah, just a scratch," he replies examining the infected punctures. Both men buckle their seat belts after sitting down behind Drew's pilot seat. The small helicopter slowly lifts up off the ground and easily maneuvers into the air silky as a glistening bat amongst the clouds. It takes only a half-hour to reach the peak of Mount Trespass.

Peeking out a small window Tornado comments, "Hey man! You were right. One bonefied mansion."

"Vee vill circle twice round vu k?" Drew shouts back over the noise of the floating craft. "Ve make sure vu alright there k?"

"Sounds peachy to me," Steve shouts back peering down at the mansion with a look of uncertainty spilling over his features.

"Come on," Tornado unbuckles his seat belt and walks to the back of the helicopter. As Steve follows Tornado lifts a latch and slides open a side door.

"You're gonna drop out here!" Tornado yells over the fierce sound of the wind gushing through the door. "Wait three seconds, then pull the string to release the chute."

"Uh, right," Steve replies cautiously.

"Ok, make sure you direct your landing like I showed you. Have a safe drop," Tornado signs off, barely audible over the whirring of the blades cutting the air. Steve prepares to slide through the gaping hole.

"See ya on the flip side T." Tornado smiles then motions downward with his hand. Steve grimaces then ducks through the door. With a yelp sucked away by the wind, he counts to three in his head then jerkily pulls the strap on his parachute releasing the orange fabric and pulling himself into a slow descent.

His feet touch the ground childishly and he wobbles about for a moment as though he were on a ship at sea. He quickly unhooks his parachute letting it flap away limply as the breeze pulls it a short distance. The sky fades to a hazy pink as the sun quickly begins its descent. Steve chances a glance at the nearby door to the mansion hanging slightly open. He looks again, thinking he had seen a red light. Shaking his head to clear the fuzziness of his rapid descent, he turns his back to watch Drew and Tornado finish their first circle so he can signal his okay.


	13. Chapter 13

As the helicopter comes around he raises a hand. Drew smiles and waves back to him. Suddenly a blazing stream of hundreds of paper thin black and brown sheets whizz past and around him, some cutting gashes in his skin, most flying straight out and up... and towards the helicopter.

The fading sun inhibits Steve's view as he tries to protect himself from the dangerous objects. Screeching highly, the objects arrange themselves around the helicopter, some getting chopped into pieces by the whirring blades. As the objects fall to the ground Steve examines what appear to be bats, rather pieces of bats. As he looks up again, the helicopter is completely covered by these screeching bats.

The flying craft's position changes drastically moment to moment, sinking lower as every second seems to last a lifetime.

Helpless, the solitary man can only watch and scream, "T! T! Drew! Pull up! Drew!" His screams are obliterated by the twirling blades of the helicopter and the rush and screech of the bats. As the helicopter sinks lower and closer to the jagged pinnacles below, Steve's screams become weeping sobs of panic over the wall surrounding the peak.

Time seems to go by in slow motion as a horde of black suddenly abandons the flying contraption and the misshapen rocks claim their victims in a loud explosion and fiery smoke. Smoke and heat billows up around Steve's sobbing face from the depths below.

"No..." Steve moans. The sun sinks lower with a sad wink of its rays. The smoke continues to float upward while the sound carries through the mountains. Steve turns, sits, leaning against the wall, and cups his head in his hands slowly rocking back and forth. Night settles into the sky and the loud breath begins to slow.

From the doorway, a shadow waits, red opals lost for a moment in a blink. Steve's face is toward the doorway, back against the wall surrounding the top of the mount. A deep voice booms and shadows skitter away.

"Why... have you come?" Steve's face whips up towards the voice then glances around unable to see the bearer of the sound, the pain of the past few moments lost in fear.

"My bride spoke of your encounter," the voice continues and Steve's eyes follow to the dark doorway ahead of him. "Rise, and enter. Be not malignant and let night be your friend. Safety then you will find true."

Steve with eyes focused on the doorway slowly stands pushing himself from behind with his left hand on the ground. As though in a trance, he drifts towards the castle with a gliding gait and a hypnotic gaze. He steps through the doorway eyes pinpointing the two steady red lights.

"Welcome to our home." Raphael snaps his fingers and wall torches flare to life bringing light to the dark hall and momentary blindness to Steve who raises his right arm to shield his eyes. Forcefully, his arm is yanked down, not gruesomely but rough enough.

"Ah, so she did bite you." Raphael's and Steve's eyes meet for the first time. "She told me she had not meant to but you got in the way. Now THIS is the price you must pay!"

Raphael releases Steve's arm and walks a little ways down the hall, arms outstretched. "This... I can teach you here everything you need to know." Raphael speaks pronouncedly turning about slowly he faces Steve again smiling.

"Welcome to the family." Steve looks down to the stone floor, blinking. Raphael laughs and begins to walk away.


	14. Chapter 14

Snapping to acknowledgement Steve rips open his backpack at his hip grabbing the first thing to touch his skin. Yanking it out, he hurls the garlic strand at Raphael catching him off guard. The strand swings around the master's neck causing Raphael to cry out with a loud piercing screech as his flesh begins to smoke and turn slowly to ash.

Ripping the strand of garlic bulbs from his neck Raphael turns fiercely towards Steve, his body melts into a misty fog and with his silent command the torches extinguish.

Seized with fear, Steve reaches into his backpack drawing out the next useful item. Grasping it shakily, he attempts to turn on the flashlight. A thin beam of light cuts through the darkness. Creeping down the hall, Steve fumbles through his backpack grabbing out the knife. Thinking only of the task before him, to live and kill this creature of darkness, he cautiously and shakily looks here and there, the light darting back and forth reflecting his tension.

Abruptly a hand clasps around Steve's neck. Steve gasps and gurgles in his lack of oxygen. In his startlement, he drops his flashlight to the ground, the bulb snapping to a quick death. The wall torches light replace where the dim flashlight's beam left off.

Steve throws back his right arm, feeling his elbow catch in Raphael's stomach and his ribs. Raphael digs his fingernails into Steve's bite grinding the sharp points into the skin, causing blood to flow freely from the wound.

Raphael screams lustily seeing the blood on his fingers. Steve kicks back with his left foot meeting Raphael's knee sending him backwards with a cracking echo, releasing Steve's neck, Raphael's fingerprints embedded in the skin.

Steve turns slicing at Raphael with his blade gleaming in the firelight in his left hand. Raphael jumps back throwing his arms out in front of himself, his cloak flying wildly, torn by the desperate stab. Again the hallway is plunged into hellish darkness.

Steve backs up, his ragged breathing an earthquake in a dormant tomb. Sinking his hand one last time into his backpack, he pulls out a flask of holy water, still backing down the hall. Feeling the wall behind him, Steve tries to settle his breathing, feeling the blood trickling down his arm and dripping off his fingers. Terrifying, absolute silence entombs the hall.

Steve grunts as sharp claws are drawn over the side of his face, propelling him along the hall wall. The torches burst to life. Raphael strides rapidly towards Steve, rage showing over his body and his breathing. His fingernails drip with Steve's blood.

Rising from the floor Steve stands to meet the angry master. Raphael walks straight at Steve emitting a deep-throated scream from his very core and raising his arms above his head. Steve thrusts angrily with his right fist, pleasurably feeling the skin smoosh out of the way as he makes contact with Raphael's cheek. Raphael screams wide-mouthed, his fangs hanging out grossly. He kicks out, stealing Steve's legs from under him, knocking Steve on his stomach and again depriving him of a deep breath.

Raphael walks around the gasping Steve, smiling, hands clasped behind his back. Raphael stands staring for a moment, then opens his mouth to speak but can't finish his phrase. Steve rolls over towards Raphael, causing the man standing to straddle Steve, laying with his back on the floor now. He quickly slices the back of Raphael's calf. Raphael screeches staring down at Steve with eyes ablaze and fangs glistening in the light. Steve cowers unaware of his fate. Raphael returns to fog and the lights dim and extinguish.

Steve stands slowly and cautiously, backing away from where Raphael had just been. He picks up his flask of holy water. He tries to pull the top off but unexpectedly hits a solid obstacle with his back. The obstacle with blazing speed grabs Steve's shoulders and spins him around.

The flames return. Steve's hand with the knife remains on the plug of the flask in his right. Two long needle-like fangs plunge into Steve's neck. With a deep yell and a dancing struggle Steve grips the knife hard and brings it across Raphael's chest, blade into his tender skin. Shrieking, Raphael backs up bringing shaking hands up to the already healing cut.

Steve yanks the top off the flask and jumps in front of Raphael's squirming body, plunging the neck of the flask into Raphael's throat and slamming it to a tipped position, hearing the clink of the master's teeth. Raphael's face falls to his chest; Steve removes the flask spraying the remaining liquid over Raphael's body.

A trickle runs down the flask, making contact with Steve's skin burning and causing him to drop the flask, clanking to the stone floor.

The skin around the mouth burns to ashes and Raphael's body curls in upon itself, his own arms wrapping around his body. The burning spreads as the body falls to the floor, the final screams dying with the master. Steve falls to the floor exhausted and closes his eyes but the man from the police station flashes in the darkness behind his closed eyelids.

"You must separate the head from the body." Steve sighs tiredly, opening his eyes. And looking at the body of Raphael. He looks at the blade in his hand then crawls forward towards the body. He slices the neck, easily cutting through veins, windpipe, and esophagus then sawing much more slowly through the bone. The work takes the night to complete.


	15. Chapter 15

After that task is complete, Steve stands with a grunt, grabs the head by the hair and walks down the hall towards the doorway leading to the outside courtyard.

A cry echoes down the hall to Steve's ears. He stops barely daring to glance behind him then runs out into the blue early morn. Steve runs to the courtyard wall, the length seeming far too distant, his run feeling like forever, his legs burning with exhaustion.

A black bullet whizzes by Steve's ear, transforming into a woman before him. Sliding to a stop Steve looks from the head to the woman, to the wall. The woman, horror-filled eyes glued to the head starts to weep quietly, silently moving her lips. Steve looks at the head once more and the wall and smiles.

He drops his knife, grasps the head with both hands and chucks it as far as he can. "NO!" the woman screams, watching the head helplessly as it soars over her head and over the wall. The woman, Jessabelle, races after her lover's severed head, leaning over the wall and screaming.

Steve bends down, eyes on Jessabelle and picks up his blood-stained knife. He slowly and noiselessly stalks towards her. She turns with a demonistic appearance and an animalistic scream. She charges at him clawing and screaming.

The sky turns pink.

Steve slices at her, cutting her forearm but not able to stop her enraged attack. Steve shields himself with his arms, which become terribly scratched by Jessabelle's cat-like claws. She battles him back, closer and closer to the castle. She bites down on his arm, causing him to drop the knife.

Provoked, Steve shrieks, his fangs extending. He clasps his hand behind Jessabelle's naked neck and sinks his fangs into her flash. A warm sensation over takes him, and the pleasure of feeling her squirm courses through his body.

Jessabelle backs Steve so that he is partly inside the shadow of the doorframe. The morning's first rays peek over the mountains. Jessabelle screams in agony, her body in full sunlight smoking and burning into dust. A pain like a million needles stings through Steve's body. He dashes through the doorway into the cool consoling darkness, his body healing slowly.

Jessabelle falls to the ground, a pile of ashes. The wind blows the ashes through the mountains as a cloud comes over the sun. Steve turns, startled sees the boy.

"Hello," the boy says with a friendly smile.

"Hello," Steve says, unsure.

"Are you my family now?" the boy asks innocently.

"Well..." Steve replies squatting down to the boy's level.

"Can you tuck me in?" the boy asks with a yawn.

"Yeah, sure." Steve stands back up sympathetic thoughts in his mind and realization of his own similar condition. The boy slips his hand into Steve's walking down the hall.

"Ya know, we'll have to find you a girl," the boy grins up at Steve's laughing face.

"Yeah, you'll have to show me how things work," Steve smiles down at the boy's fair-skinned face.

"Don't worry," Lucas says assuredly. "It's all in the family."


	16. author's notes

Author's Notes

1. I see Raphael as very similar to the new "Phantom of the Opera" actor in both speech and appearance.

2. The ceiling is an upside down V shape, not to a sharp degree but sloped none the less. The stairs go up into the ceiling so that you can step right off the onto the floor into the room above the library. The stairs are like those old metal circular stairs in libraries. I think there's one in "My Fair Lady," the musical.

3. These footprints are from when Lucas was skipping.

4. This outfit top is similar to that of "Fifth Element"

5. For some reason, I see Tornado being Greek or Italian in appearance only.


End file.
